


King of a Ruined World

by AquaWings23



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, I know some people think of Mordechai Lukas as Peter's ancestor, Implied Sexual Content, It's basically just a study of Jonah Magnus but trans, Lonely Eyes, M/M, Mention of Top Surgery Scars, So Mordechai is Peter's past body, Spoilers up to Ep 162, Trans Character, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character, but my fic my rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWings23/pseuds/AquaWings23
Summary: He knows. He knows everything. He can See you.Jonah knew that he should find the idea frightening, someone who could see beyond his well-maintained exterior, but the thought sent a rather pleasant chill down his spine.A study of Trans! Jonah Magnus and his discovery of Beholding, as well as his connection to Mordechai Lukas.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus, Peter Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 122





	King of a Ruined World

**Author's Note:**

> Before we beginning, I just want to give a huge thank you to @osheets on Tumblr for the art that inspired this fic! Go check them out!!! https://osheets.tumblr.com/post/614842933141815296/so-yeah-jonah-magnus-trans
> 
> This is my first fic that I've ever written for TMA and also the first fic I've written in a while! Most other projects I started on, I abandoned pretty quickly, but this oneshot was so fun to write and I was super inspired. 
> 
> Title is taken from the statement read in EP160
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's supported me in writing this!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story! Don't forget to leave a comment and some kudos if you enjoyed it!

“Adeline, sit up straight, for all that is holy.”

Ada Magnus sat rigidly in her chair, shifting the peas on her plate around. As she stared down the long table towards her father’s scolding frame, her eyes drifted to the paintings surrounding the dining room. Men, dressed in fine uniforms, eyes all seemingly glancing towards her. Ada felt a chill run down her spine at the thought.

She pushed her chair out, standing to leave.

“Just where do you think you’re going? You haven’t been excused yet.”

Her mother’s sharp features turned upwards in disapproval. Ada swore that if her mother turned her head high enough, her nose would reach the non-existent Heavens.

“I’m going to read. Mistress Cora has given me a new novel.”

“How disgraceful. That woman should be teaching you to sew, not giving you books. Luther, remind me to fire that woman at once.” Her mother carefully scooped a carrot onto her fork, not once looking at her daughter’s reaction. Ada froze.

“You can’t! She’s been teaching me so much. Just last week, she taught me the minor scales on our piano. She’s such a wonderful teacher, Mother, please don’t get rid of her!”

Her mother paused, taking in the new information and filing it away in the back of her mind. Ada always hated how collected she was. Her mother was a catalog of petty information, ready to use as blackmail material whenever possible. 

Ada turned and headed up the stairs of her grand estate, ignoring the servants’ attempts at greetings. She knew they did not care if she responded or not. She shut her door and leaned her back against it, staring into the full length mirror on the other side of her room. 

Her long, brunette hair was styled into a tasteful bun and her emerald green eyes were glaring intensely at her reflection. She hated the way she looked. Her features too soft, her posture too short, everything about her was _wrong._ The eyes in the mirror seemed to focus on every imperfection, waiting for her to snap. 

She tore her hair out of its careful twist, taking a pair of sewing shears off her desk and holding them up to her locks. Just before she closed the shears, she hesitated. A heavy presence filled her mind, clouding her thoughts.

**_Be Patient._ **

Ada looked at the shears in her hand again. The golden scissors gleamed in the soft candlelight of her room, and her focus caught on her mirror once again. She threw the shears at the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces. 

Ada breathed heavily, looking at the shards of mirror before turning to her bed and collapsing into it, instantly falling asleep.

All through the night, she dreamt of her reflection in the broken mirror. But instead of the green eyes she was so used to seeing, a pair of yellow eyes stared back at her. 

* * *

“I’m sorry, Miss, but women cannot attend the lectures. Please try to understand.”

Ada took a deep breath, struggling not to swear in frustration. 

_She had been so close._

Weeks- _months_ \- of research, studying universities, asking her godforsaken parents for funds, only to be rejected. 

Not for any true reason. She was definitely smart enough, her multitude of governesses had seen to that. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the money, her parents were the goddamn _Magnuses_ , for goodness’s sake. No. She was being rejected from her dream university _because she was a woman._

Ada ran back to her flat, tears streaming down her face. She slammed the door behind her as she entered, heading straight for her bedroom in a miserable rage. She sank to her knees once inside, suddenly feeling reminiscent of that time, so many years ago now, when she saw her dreadful reflection in her mirror as a child. The feelings of unease at the sight of her own body, the unhappiness she felt when faced with what she was. The rage that overpowered her senses now was larger than any other feelings had ever been before. 

Ada stormed into her kitchen and grabbed a knife from her drawer. Without hesitation, she pulled her hair out of its neat styling and ran the knife through, feeling the pieces of hair fall to the ground. 

For the first time in years, Ada breathed a sigh of relief. She had just destroyed a part of herself that she despised and it felt _right._ For the first time ever, something about her body felt _right._ Ada walked back to her room and looked in the mirror. She ran her hands through the messy strands of short hair, tears of joy starting to fill her eyes. In the dark light of her room, her eyes almost seemed to gleam with tears.

Ada looked down at her desk below her, where an open book sat. A bible. Ada was confused, as she did not believe in the nonsense Christianity that her parents raised her on. However, as she was closing the book to place it back on her shelf, her eyes caught on a name in the holy passage. 

_Jonah._

Ada stood and stared at the book for a few minutes, before shaking her head and placing it back on her bookshelf. She dressed in her evening clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep dreaming of men with golden eyes. 

* * *

Jonah Magnus graduated university top of his class, receiving almost every honor known to man. His parents always did call him an overachiever. Jonah knew it wasn’t enough. 

Everything they had taught him in those marble halls, every single fact he learned couldn’t quench his desire for more knowledge. He needed to learn, to discover. _To see._

So he studied. He researched odd things: paranormal happenings and research expeditions gone wrong. Some might’ve even called the man an occultist. Jonah disagreed; his research wasn’t occult, it was _divine_. Things too horrible to even describe, stories too gruesome to tell- what was the difference between the so-called occult and the tragedies set about by their non-existent God?

Now, don’t be mistaken. Jonah knew there was more out there than the pitiful beings that called themselves humans. The simple fact of life was that the universe was not centered around humanity, no matter how much his peers believed it. No, Jonah knew there was something else out there, be it god or demon, but he knew it wasn’t the God his parents praised. No mere God could make him feel like this, make his work feel so worthwhile. Perhaps God was the story they told people, to distract from the real power behind the scenes.

Jonah would not be fooled by such a simple illusion.

It was not a surprise when Robert Smirke approached him. The architect had been a known researcher of mystical powers for years, and Jonah was fascinated with his studies. So when Smirke contacted him and told him about the gathering he planned to have, the people he planned to discuss with, Jonah leapt at the chance to learn more. He knew there were powers beyond his comprehension and this meeting proved his theories.

It was a small gathering. Only Smirke, Jonah, and two other men were in the room when the architect began his theory about the Fears that ruled over their world. Jonah was mesmerized- _he had been right_ . A pantheon of monstrosities bringing chaos into the universe, it sounded like a nightmare. But all Jonah could think of was the endless knowledge, _the power,_ that these Entities must hold. He knew the others were thinking about it too. 

The first man, who called himself Rayner, had clouded eyes, yet his apparent blindness did not stop him from holding Smirke’s eye contact when he spoke. The air around him seemed colder than the rest of the room, almost chilly, and when he walked past a candle, it flickered in his presence. 

The other man was cheerful and slightly older than Jonah. His dark black hair was sprinkled with streaks of white and he had a well-trimmed beard that framed his face. He introduced himself as Mordechai Lukas. Jonah couldn’t help feeling like the man was seeing through him, finding all his weak spots. He knew that Lukas’s smiles were fake.

As Smirke explained the Fears, Jonah could feel the others perk up at the mentions of a few of them. Rayner seemed interested in the Dark, while Lukas looked entranced by the Lonely. Jonah himself didn’t feel particularly connected to any of them, until Smirke announced the final Entity. 

**_The Eye. Beholding. The Ceaseless Watcher._ **

The fear of paranoia. The fear of discovery. The feeling of being watched. Jonah thought back to the paintings in his childhood dining room, all seemingly staring at him. His mother’s knowing glances, information filed away for later. When he first started to feel like himself and it felt like every person could see who he was before. Golden eyes in broken mirrors. 

The fear that washed over him in that moment felt transcendent. Powerful. _All-knowing_.

He felt Lukas’s eyes on him again, passing over the lines of his faces and the shape of his body. Jonah looked directly into his eyes, challenging him to look deeper. Lukas smiled, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes.

Smirke begged the men to not fall into the clutches of the Entities, as the most important thing when studying them was symmetry and balance. Jonah scoffed under his breath. He could see that both men were utterly entranced with their respective Fears, and he personally could not wait to find more information about this so-called Eye.

As he left the small meeting hall, Jonah could feel eyes on him again. He turned and met the eyes of Mordechai Lukas.

**_He knows. He knows everything. He can See you._ **

Jonah knew that he should find the idea frightening, someone who could see beyond his well-maintained exterior, but the thought sent a rather pleasant chill down his spine. He turned and left before Lukas could approach him.

* * *

“Are you saying you want to fund my Institute?”

Jonah was slightly surprised. He knew that Lukas had always been interested in him, but he thought that attraction only went as far as cheerful smiles and slightly inappropriate flirting at dinner parties. 

The man smiled. Like always, the fake cheeriness never reached his eyes.

“You sound surprised.”

“Not surprised, rather just...concerned.” Jonah grimaced at the poor choice of words. Mordechai’s false smile just got wider.

“Now, Jonah, how awfully kind of you! Caring for a poor lost soul like myself.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, wretched man.” He grumbled under his voice. “ Now, what are you offering?”

Lukas smirked and handed over the paper he was holding. Jonah knew what was on it. As he committed himself to the Eye, he found himself knowing information that he had no way of learning before. He made a sound of consideration as his eyes glanced over the paper. 

“I heard you sent Barnabas Bennett to the Forsaken. How rude. I was friendly with him, you know.”

Mordechai’s large grin faded slightly. “I know you were watching. The irritant never paid back his debt and he needed to learn his lesson.”

Jonah chuckled, eyes still on the paper Lukas had given him. “Oh, I know. I had to collect his bones. Rather nasty things, they are. Still on my desk at home.” He finally looked up at Mordechai, emerald green eyes meeting pale blue ones. The gaze felt challenging. 

“You know I’m perfectly capable of funding my own research. I’ve been doing it for years.” 

“Oh, I know. Just think of it as a gift!”

Jonah’s eyes narrowed. “Would this gift perhaps have a catch?” He willed a bit of compulsion into his voice, doing as Beholding had taught him. Lukas shuddered and smiled.

“Look at you, trying to tease me with your influence. That tingles. No, all I ask is that you help me find victims for the Lonely every once in a while. A man has to feed his immortal eldritch god, after all.”

Lukas placed his hands on Jonah’s desk, leaning in closer to invade his personal space. Jonah found it revolting. He wished he would move closer.

“So...what do you say?” Lukas quirked his eyebrow, offering out his hand.

Jonah smirked and grabbed his hand.

* * *

  
Jonah had never felt power like this before. As the final crest of the ritual crashed over him, he shuddered in delight. The potential that Beholding had blessed him with before could never compare to the raw power he felt when he opened his eyes again.

 _He could See everything_.

He laughed in surprise. His eyes filled with tears as he focused, looking through the eyes of the dead prisoners scattered around him. It had _worked_.

Well...not completely. Beholding had not entered their world and besides the new sight, everything felt relatively normal. But he took his victories where he could find them and began to walk out of the panopticon, heading down the long flights of stairs that lead to the center of the penitentiary. 

As he headed back through the tunnels towards the Institute, he stopped every few minutes to test his new powers. He focused first on Smirke, smiling softly as he looked through the eyes of a statue he knew was on Smirke’s desk. The old man was hurriedly writing something down, although Jonah could not see what it was. He didn’t have to though: the Eye supplied him with that information. Images of a poorly written will entered his mind and he laughed. Poor old man, trying to escape his demise.

He then focused on Mordechai, his willpower slipping slightly from his grasp. They had not spoken to each other in months, Jonah leaving him to his ridiculous sailing out on the _Tundra_. Mordechai had often said that he felt most like himself on the sea, without a single soul to disturb him. The Loneliness was rather great there, second only to when he was standing right next to Jonah. 

Jonah scoffed at the memory and refocused his consciousness on the captain. He was sitting in his quarters, his feet propped on his desk, reading a small book. He looked exactly the same as he had so many years ago, except his hair and well-trimmed beard were colored grey instead of the deep black he had grown so used to. His face was lined with wrinkles, but they were small in number compared to the amount of smile lines he had on his face. 

Jonah closed his eyes and stopped focusing on Lukas, climbing up the ladder to reach his office in the Institute. Sitting at his desk, his eyes passed over a small hand mirror he kept off to the side. He picked it up and examined himself.

Jonah knew that he was growing old. The wrinkles on his face were very apparent and his grey hair often hung in his face when it fell out of his usual styling. That fact didn’t bother Jonah as much as it should have. He knew the Ceaseless Watcher would provide him with a way to stay alive. The power that he had just bestowed upon the Entity made sure of that. No, what interested him when he finally looked at himself in the mirror was the way his eyes seemed to glow when he concentrated on Seeing. He smirked to himself, placed the mirror on his desk, and took out a piece of parchment and a quill. 

_My dearest Mordechai,_

_I believe I’ve done it. I shall be Seeing you very soon._

_Your obedient servant,_

_Jonah Magnus_

* * *

  
Body-hopping was never a very pleasant experience for Jonah. No matter how many times he had done it, the sensation of having your consciousness removed from your body and placed into a new one was troublesome. 

The body he had chosen this time was that of one Elias Bouchard, the Institute’s resident filing clerk and pothead. Jonah despised him, but “James Wright” needed to have his position filled as Head of the Institute, and Jonah couldn’t let someone else take his place. 

Elias quickly rose to the top, swapping out his ratty jeans and college band t-shirts for crisp suits and elegant ties. His long messy hair was quickly cut and slicked back, the length of it making Jonah feel uncomfortable. His hair was always something that made him feel more masculine, especially since the Eye never let him forget the fear of being outed. Even though it was his Patron, the Watcher often made life much too difficult for Jonah.

He called Lukas immediately after he finished sorting himself out. He told him he didn’t need the useless man wandering into the Institute and ratting him out. Lukas picked up after the second ring.

“Mordechai.”

“You know I go by Peter now, James. Although, I heard that that certain body had died. Who are you feeling this decade?”

“It’s Elias now. Elias Bouchard. I’d like to see you at the Institute.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Elias, but I don’t think I’ll be there. I’m still feeling hurt from our last divorce.”

Jonah scowled, annoyed with Peter’s useless teasing. “If you don’t come over now, I’ll divorce your head from your spine.”

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” Jonah could hear his smirk through the phone.

“Just shut up and get over here.”

* * *

  
Elias had known for a while that Peter fed on his loneliness. It was hard not to feel lonely when you felt everyone else was below you. Yet for some reason, Elias always felt the most lonely whenever Peter was near.

The way that Peter kissed him felt reverent in its gentleness, something that only Elias and perhaps the Lonely itself had seen. The way Peter held him made him feel some unspeakable emotion, something he hadn’t felt since before he was Jonah. But whenever he left, the void in his chest felt like it would swallow him and he felt lost every time. 

He didn’t feel like that now. Not with Peter lying next to him, carefully tracing and kissing the scars on his chest with such adoration that Elias thought he would melt. For some reason, the scars always seemed to transfer to each body he took, along with the glow of his eyes. Perhaps it was the Eye, humbling him by reminding him of what he used to be, what he hated. Or maybe it was a reminder of how far he had come, how much he had grown and succeeded, how much power he had gained. For all the knowledge Beholding granted him, this was one mystery he would never be able to solve.

“You’re thinking too much.” Peter smiled at him. A real smile. Elias had grown to like the way his smile lines creased when he was genuine. 

“Just thinking about how easy it would be to kill you right now. You’re so open and vulnerable, it’s quite a nice thought.”

Peter chuckled. “What a charmer you are. At least take me to dinner first.”

Elias scowled. “I’ve offered you dinner. Many times. You always said there were too many people in the restaurants.”

Peter sighed happily, rolling onto his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “I suppose you’re right. But you always want to choose such popular restaurants, it’s really unfair, Elias.” He glanced at Elias smugly before moving out of bed, walking to pick up his clothing that was strewn around the room.

Elias sat up in bed, leaning towards Peter. “I want to make a bet with you.”

Peter smiled, before walking over and kissing him, gently caressing his face. “You know I’m weak when it comes to gambling. What’s the wager?”

“I’m planning on making a new ritual.”

Peter froze, holding his shirt in his hands. He turned to face Elias. “I thought the Watcher’s Crown was successful?”

“Semi-successful. Beholding was never brought into our world, but it gained more power, as did I. No, I’m planning on making a ritual for all the Fears.” Elias tilted his head, judging Peter’s reaction.

Peter paused, considering. “Now that is intriguing. How would it work? And how does this factor into _our_ wager?”

Elias smirked. “I have my little Archivist, Jon. I’m planning on having him be marked by all of the Fears, including your own little Lonely. If you can successfully convince someone from the Institute to willingly join the Lonely, I will give you my Institute and the Panopticon, where my first body resides. However.” 

Elias climbed out of the bed, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck. He stood slightly on his toes, reaching up to look Peter in the eyes. Peter wrapped his arms around Elias’s waist.

“If you fail, you must take Jon into the Lonely, so that he may be marked by your patron. It’s the final mark he needs for the ritual. I’ll even give you a head start: I have a person I believe will be suitable for you.”

* * *

Elias had never felt this kind of power before. Even when he was Jonah, attempting the Watcher’s Crown, the power he received then was miniscule in comparison to this feeling. 

He had watched Jon read the false statement, the way he tried to force himself to tear his eyes away. The way his lips kept moving, even as he tried to stop, compelled by the influence of Beholding. The rise of the Fears’ powers overwhelmed him, and he breathed heavily as he felt Jon speak the final words of the incantation. 

Elias screamed as he felt reality tear in two, pain and relief washing over him in wave upon wave of agonizing pressure. He cut off his connection from Jon, pleased when the pain lessened slightly and he could finally feel the glorious presence of his Patron. 

_It worked._

Elias laughed in shock and happiness, amazed at how much emotion he felt. Tears of joy welled in his eyes as he rushed to the phone at his desk, hurriedly dialling Peter’s number before he paused. Remembering. 

His joy left immediately. Peter would never be able to see the fruit of his labor, the years he toiled to bring their Entities into existence. 

Elias knew that this moment was for him, that he had worked for so long to feel the radiance of The Ceaseless Watcher shine over him. And he felt it! He felt the splendor of paranoia, the majesty of fear that he had cultivated for years, _centuries_.

But none of his work mattered if his captain wasn’t beside him.

So he sat. And he waited. For what, he had no idea. But this felt like an ending. Whether it was the end of a chapter or a book, he could not tell, but the sense of finality that hung over his office was palpable. 

So his story would come to an end. He hoped the Watcher had enjoyed it. He certainly had.


End file.
